


lost your light

by peachsneakers



Series: flower petals [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anaroceit, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Deceit | Janus Sanders Has Hanahaki Disease, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pining, Prinxiety - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: Janus is screwed. Coughing up flowers is bad enough. But he knows there's no chance it'll ever come to fruition. Not when the objects of his affection are already in a relationship. With each other.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Series: flower petals [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842829
Comments: 183
Kudos: 462





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> lyrics are from breaking benjamin "firefly"

_Now I'm lost in you_   
_Like I always do_   
_And I'd die to win_   
_'Cause I'm born to lose_   
  


Janus convulses once more, his hoarse cough wrenching another handful of bloodied purple and red petals free. He looks at them with glazed eyes, shivering as another spate of coughing runs its course, speckling his lips with blood.

He's dying. Or rather- he's going to come as close to dying as a side can get, and he's not sure that he can handle that. He already can barely eat. They don't technically _need_ to eat, but thanks to Thomas, they still feel the effects of malnutrition. He's sure that isn't helping right about now, but he can't bring himself to care. The thought of trying to eat while his lungs slowly strangle and choke with flowers makes him want to vomit. No, thanks.

Laughter trickles in, from behind the door, and he winces, because it's _his_ laughter. It's _Roman's_ laughter, and if he wasn't in such a miserable state, he might have smiled to hear it. It's been a long, painful road to build Roman back up, for the others to assure him that he _is_ in fact Thomas's hero and he _is_ in fact worth something. He and Janus even stiffly made up and while he supposes he is no longer on the creative side's Most Wanted list, he knows that the other side certainly doesn't _like_ him. Roman wouldn't enjoy spending time with him, or laugh at the snarky quips he makes under his breath, or ruffle a hand through Janus's tousled hair, bowler hat tossed aside.

No, those private, precious things are reserved for _Virgil_ and if that isn't yet another kick in the teeth, Janus doesn't know what is. They, too, are stiffly courteous toward each other (no more involuntary hissing!) but he knows that Virgil would never so much as _talk_ to him of his own accord, without something urgent to Thomas's well-being being at stake.

So doesn't it just figure that not only would he have contracted Hanahaki disease, he would do so for the two people least likely to ever, _ever_ return his pitiful affections?

He almost wishes he'd fallen in love with Remus. At least he might have had a chance then. He certainly enjoys Remus's company more than the others, especially in large doses. But Remus is busy these days, trying to patch up his relationship with his brother, and Janus would rather rip out his own tongue than get between them.

Truthfully, come to think of it, he doesn't really spend time with _anyone_. These days, he feels like a ghost, an immaterial phantom trapped in the hazy confines of Thomas's mind, particularly since his room is still the closest to the dark. It's cold enough that he always has to burrow under all his blankets, and even then, he almost always feels vaguely ill. Of course, now he just feels _entirely_ ill. He coughs again, desperately trying to muffle it behind one bloodstained gloved hand.

A hesitant knock sounds at the door and Janus freezes, hastily shoving all the ragged, bloodied petals he's coughed up under his pillow, a pathetic love token that he'd rather die than let anyone else see.

"Janus?" Patton calls through the door. "Are you all right? I heard coughing... Are you sick?"

"Perfectly fine, Patton," Janus drawls, as loudly as he dares without triggering another coughing fit. "Simply something in my throat." And judging by the blood-slicked red petal joining its fellows beneath his pillowcase, that's not even a lie.

"Okay," Patton says, trailing off. "Well, feel free to come join us for movie night, if you want! We're watching _Frozen_."

"I'm afraid I'll have to take a rain check," Janus says smoothly. "Have fun, though." He listens to the sound of Patton's footsteps retreating from his door and curls up in a hard, painful ball, tears burning his human eye.

Not for the first time, does he consider ending this tightrope balancing act of emotional agony on his own terms.


	2. Chapter 2

_Take my hand_   
_We'll be off and then_   
_We'll come back again_

"Still a no," Patton says, coming back to the living room and shaking his head. "I'm worried about him, he sounded awful. Do you think he's sick?"

"It's a possibility," Logan acknowledges, with a thoughtful hum. "Perhaps a cold?" Virgil frowns, curling up tighter against Roman's side. Roman reaches down and sinks his fingers into Virgil's hair, grounding him with a touch.

"Maybe you should make your famous chicken noodle soup tomorrow, Pat," Roman suggests. "No one can turn that down."

"Well," Patton frowns himself, then brightens a little. "I suppose I could _try_. Maybe he'll like it?"

"Add a live mouse," Remus suggests, with a cackle as he appears. Patton recoils in disgust, before straightening himself back out, trying to look unbothered. Virgil stifles a snort in the sleeve of his hoodie.

"While Janus is part-snake, we have no information suggesting that a live mouse would be beneficial or even possible for him to eat," Logan says. "Unless you have contradicting information, Remus?" Remus shrugs.

"Nah," he says. "But it would have been funny!" He giggles, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes. Virgil sighs.

"No live mice in Janus's soup," he says. "You know he wouldn't like that, Remus."

"Spoilsport," Remus grumbles. "What movie are you gonna watch?"

" _Frozen_ ," Patton answers. Remus heaves a gusty, prolonged sigh.

"Booooooring," he singsongs. "Why not watch something with more pizzazz?"

"Because pizzazz to you is someone getting their spine ripped out," Virgil says. Patton looks vaguely green at the thought.

"That's what makes it fun!" Remus argues. "It's no fun until someone screams!"

"We're watching _Frozen_ , Remus," Roman says tiredly. Remus pouts as he lowers himself to the floor, sprawling out and resting his head against the couch.

"Fiiiiiine," he says, drawing out the word.

It's a movie they've seen multiple times, so Virgil feels free to let his mind wander as the movie starts up, a snowflake spiraling lazily across the screen. And as always, or so it seemed lately, his thoughts turn to Janus.

He wonders if the scales that speckle his face and spatter down his neck and across his shoulder are as smooth as they appear. He wonders what it would feel like, sliding his fingers into the unruly brown curls of the other side, what it would feel like to press his lips against Janus's. He knows Janus has a forked tongue, he's seen it often enough. He wonders what that forked tongue would feel like, swiping between his lips. He wonders what kind of cuddler Janus is, if he prefers to be the little or big spoon. He thinks about the honeyed tone Janus so often possesses, complete with the sharp bite of his sarcasm, so appealing to Virgil's own. He wonders what it would be like to sit up until 3 a.m. again, watching shitty conspiracy theories on Youtube, hands wrapped around a mug of cocoa with tiny marshmallows bobbing in the froth.

He wonders if Janus will ever forgive him. He wonders if he'll ever forgive _himself_. He knows they've tentatively made up, but it's not enough. _God,_ is it not enough. By all rights, Janus should hate him. Maybe he _does_ hate him.

His breathing quickens and Roman's hand comes up to cover his, rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand. No one else notices, but Virgil shoots a quick, grateful glance up at Roman.

And Roman-

He knows that Roman _wonders_ , too. Wonders what it would feel like to sweep Janus off his feet, to twirl him around and pepper his face with kisses. To gaze into those mismatched eyes and find them soft and wistful, not sharp and watchful. Wonders what it would be like, all three of them sprawled across his bed, tucked into just the right positions. To act out his favorite scenes, to debate philosophy (not that Roman _understands_ philosophy all that well, but damned if he wouldn't try for Janus).

And Janus, he-

He stays in his room. He rarely leaves. He only comes out when he can be certain (or nearly so) that the others aren't around. Virgil's caught him a few times, as he lurked in the shadows. He never makes his presence known when he sees the deceitful side. It doesn't feel right, not when he can see Janus's jumpiness. His paleness. The way he carries himself, stiff and proud. The way-

Virgil's eyes widen.

Something's wrong with Janus. And he doesn't think it's as simple as a cold.


	3. Chapter 3

_Now I'm justified_  
_As I fall in line_  
_And it's hard to try_  
_When you're open wide_

They corner him on one of his infrequent meal runs. He's busy rummaging through one of the cupboards, hoping to find something easy on his throat, when he hears Roman and Virgil enter the kitchen. Instantly, his throat itches and he has to slam one of his hands over his mouth, trying to keep the cough in. Luckily, it's one of his spare hands and his back is to them. It's easy to keep looking through the cupboard, like he hasn't noticed their approach at all.

"Janus?" Virgil asks hesitantly. He freezes, swallowing painfully. To hear his name- coming from _Virgil_ , of all people- it's almost too much to bear.

"Yes?" He manages to eke out. He can tell a coughing fit is imminent, he just prays he's able to make it into his room before it rips everything asunder. "Did you need something?"

"We erm- we wanted to talk to you," Virgil says. Janus's heart sinks to the vicinity of his toes. Have they noticed? Do they know his pitiful feelings for them? Is this an intervention, something to let him down easy, so that things won't be 'awkward' around Thomas?

"Patton said that you weren't feeling well," Roman says, taking up the thread of the conversation, and Janus's brow furrows in puzzlement. What does Patton have to do with this? Oh, god, does _Patton_ know?

"I'm fine," he says, knowing it sounds harsh, but unable to care. "Just-" His mind seizes desperately on an explanation. "A little cold or something."

"I didn't think we could _get_ colds." Virgil sounds skeptical, and Janus can't blame him.

"You don't know everything, Virgil," he says, and promptly regrets it. A lake of ice forms in his stomach, and he can feel his breathing speed up. "I apologize," he manages to say.

"We just want you to feel better, Janus," Roman says. Why does he have to sound so _concerned_? If this is what he sounds like when he doesn't give a damn about someone, Janus thinks he would _weep_ if he heard Roman's voice directed at someone he truly cares about. If he ever-

 _Well, he doesn't and he won't, so quit thinking about it,_ he scolds himself, the coughing fit an ever-looming threat. He grabs a container of applesauce blindly, tucking it against his shirt.

"Well, if that's all-" he starts to say, before the coughing takes over. He bends over with the force of it, blood speckling his lips, and oh god, they've seen it, he can _tell_ , even through tear-blurred eyes, that they've seen it. The twin looks of shocked horror say it all. By the grace of all things snake-like, he manages to avoid spitting out flower petals, but they taste awful in his mouth, blood-soaked and bedraggled.

"You are _not_ fine," Virgil states firmly. His face is ghost white, and his hand is trembling when he seizes Janus's upper arm. "You're going to see Logan. Right now."

"I'm _fine_ ," he weakly protests, his voice muffled by the wad of flower petals slowly turning into a soggy clump in his mouth. Roman and Virgil exchange skeptical glances and he scowls.

"If you just had a cold, my dear Fibber on the Roof, you wouldn't be coughing up blood," Roman says softly. Janus ignores the pang in his chest from hearing 'dear.' It's just because they think he's ill. And of course he is, but the two dragging him across the mind palace are the absolute worst two to be finding out _anything_ about it. He knows that Roman knows about Hanahaki disease. If they see the petals taking up residence in his mouth, surely they both will put two and two together. And then what? Pity? Guilt? He doesn't _want_ their pity and he sure as hell doesn't want them to feel guilt over it! It's not like they can force themselves to be in love with him, and he doesn't want them to try.

Far too quickly, they've delivered him to Logan's door. Before Roman knocks, Janus deliberately straightens himself out.

"If you insist on me speaking with Logan, then I insist on speaking with him alone," he says. His heart beats like a wild thing in his chest, fluttering mad wings of encroaching panic. Roman and Virgil exchange a glance.

"Deal," Virgil says. Before Janus can sag in relief, he adds, "But we're telling him why you're here first." Roman knocks on the door while Janus's head spins, trying to figure out how he's going to get out of this with the minimum amount of people knowing his gruesome secret.

"What is it- Janus," Logan says in surprise. "I thought you were unwell."

"He is," Virgil says bluntly, before Janus can say anything to the contrary. "He started coughing up blood in the kitchen." Logan's eyes widen in surprise and he swings his door open. 

"Go on," Roman says, giving Janus a friendly push. Janus stumbles on the carpet, feeling very much like not only is he walking into the dragon's den.

He's walking straight into the dragon's open mouth.


	4. Chapter 4

_You, my friend_   
_You're a lot like them_   
_But I caught your lie_   
_And you know I did_

As the door closes behind him, Janus leans against the door frame with forced casualness and speaks, carefully wadding up the bloody flower petals in one side of his mouth.

"I'm perfectly fine, Logan, there's no need for this."

Logan gives him a blatantly skeptical look over the tops of his glasses, motioning for him to sit down.

"That would carry more weight if your lips weren't still bloodstained," Logan says dryly. The human side of Janus's face flushes brilliant crimson. _Shit._ He sighs, sagging against the wood.

"Why don't you sit down?" Logan suggests, nodding toward his office chair. Janus sinks into it, his face still burning. When Logan turns, rummaging around in his closet, Janus's desperate eyes land on the trash can tucked under his desk. As quick as a blink, the bloody clump of flower petals are nestled in the trash, beneath a few crumpled balls of paper. He runs his tongue across his teeth, hating the film of bloodied saliva that still lingers.

"Stick out your tongue, please," Logan requests, returning with a wooden tongue dispenser. Feeling like he acted not a moment too soon, Janus obediently runs out his tongue. Logan's eyes widen in surprise. "Your tongue is forked," Logan remarks. "Fascinating."

"I'm sure," Janus manages to say around the tongue dispenser. Logan peers into his mouth, with the aid of a tiny flashlight. He tsks over the blood still remaining, but says nothing else.

"How long have your symptoms been going on?" Logan asks, pulling out a clipboard. "What are your symptoms, precisely?"

"Coughing," he answers. He isn't _lying_ precisely. Logan doesn't need to know what he's coughing up. "Fever, maybe? Chills, I suppose. I'm not sure how long it's been going on." Logan frowns.

"How long has your cough produced blood?" He asks. Janus shrugs. He has no desire to tell Logan that's been the case since near the beginning and small wonder, since he's being slowly suffocated by flowers growing in his lungs.

Logan sighs, putting down the clipboard and fixing Janus with a stern look.

"I may not be the embodiment of deception, but I can still tell that you're a terrible liar sometimes," he says. "I can't help you if you aren't honest with me, Janus."

"You can't help me at all, so it doesn't particularly matter one way or another," Janus mutters under his breath. Logan frowns.

"Why do you say that?" Logan asks. Janus opens his mouth to answer him when another particularly harsh bout of coughing doubles him over, fresh blood filling his mouth. Red and purple flower petals dribble down his chin, painted in blood, and he freezes in wide-eyed horror, scrubbing at his mouth and trying to hide the incriminating evidence. Red stains his gloves, making nausea surge. Logan's eyes have grown very calculating, and Janus doesn't like the experience one bit.

"Janus," Logan says very slowly. "Why didn't you tell me that you have hanahaki disease?"

"How was I to know that you even know what that is?" Janus asks sourly. "How _do_ you know what it is, for that matter?" Pink dusts across Logan's cheeks.

"I grew curious about the logistics of it when Thomas was in his fanfiction phase," Logan answers. "It seemed highly unrealistic." A bitter laugh escapes Janus before he can stop himself.

"We, on the other hand, are metaphysical human beings," Logan says. "It...makes a certain amount of sense that fictional diseases could still affect us. But Janus-" He pauses. "You know what it means, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Janus says, his lips twisting. "Confess to someone who despises me, or come as near to death as a side can. Perhaps even fade into the subconscious and have a new Deceit take my place. I'm not stupid."

"That would not be ideal," Logan says. "Thomas is used to working with you, as are the rest of us. We-"

"Is that the only reason you care?" Janus spits out. "Because me _dying_ would be an inconvenience?"

"I care about _you_ , you-" Logan splutters for breath, his chest heaving. Janus stares at him in surprise. Logan breathes slowly, trying to calm down. "I care about you," he repeats. "I don't want you to die, or fade away, or- or anything like that. Are you so sure your love is unrequited then?"

He laughs bitterly again, unfolding his palm to reveal the crumpled red and purple petals captured within.

"What do you think?" He says.

"I think," Logan begins, pushing his glasses up his nose, "that either you tell them or I will."

"Logan!" Janus protests, betrayed. Logan regards him impassively.

"Tell them," he insists. "They deserve to know, Janus."

"Their guilt is on your hands then," Janus snarks. Logan regards him disapprovingly. 

"Tell them," he repeats. "Please, Janus."

"Why not," Janus says, his tone bright with insincerity. "I _love_ humiliating myself in front of the people I love. Sounds like a fantastic way to spend an afternoon." He shoves the flower petals in his pocket, praying that Logan never checks the contents of his trash can, and forces himself to his feet. "I'll see my own way out."

"Remember what I said," Logan calls after him.

Janus would rather jump off the highest cliff in the Imagination.

"Well?" Roman and Virgil ambush him as soon as he steps into the living room. "What did he say?"

Janus swallows hard, his heart beating in the base of his throat like the frantic wings of a hummingbird.

"I'm fine," he lies, and sweeps past them.


	5. Chapter 5

_Bring me your enemies_   
_Lay them before me_   
_And walk away_   
_Walk away_

Roman isn't sure what possesses him to reach out and snag Janus's sleeve, but he does so anyway, pulling the snake-faced side to a stop.

"I don't believe you," he says bluntly. Red climbs up Janus's throat, as he answers haughtily.

"It doesn't matter what you believe or don't, now does it?"

"Hey," Virgil protests. "Janus, you were coughing up _blood_. You can't tell me that you're just okay, like that-"

"I can and I will," Janus near-snarls back. When Roman glances down, he can see red spots spattering Janus's gloves. It makes him feel sick inside.

A door bangs open upstairs and they all look, to see Logan standing at the top of the stairs, an impassive look on his face.

"Don't you dare-" Janus starts to say, his voice rough. Roman looks back at him, startled to see tears glittering in his human eye.

"I told you your options," Logan says calmly. "Tell them, or I will."

"Who are you to take that choice away?" Janus sneers. He's trembling like he's caught in a windstorm, and Roman wants nothing more than to circle him with his arms and keep him safe. A quick glance at Virgil proves he feels the same.

"Janus, we just want to help you," Roman says, trying desperately to keep the anguish out of his voice.

"You can't," Janus says bleakly. 

"You don't know that," Logan retorts. A sense of dread creeps up Roman's spine as Janus stiffens, his shoulders set in a straight line.

"Fine," Janus says. His voice is so cold, it makes Roman _ache_. "If you're that desperate to see my humiliation, Logan-"

"That isn't at all my motivation and you know it," Logan protests, but Janus shakes his head, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"I have hanahaki disease," Janus says coolly. Roman's mouth sags open in horror. Confusion spreads across Virgil's face as he stares between Roman and Janus, eyes wild.

"It means Janus is dying," Roman whispers. "Of unrequited love."

"Or love he _thinks_ is unrequited," Logan corrects. Janus scoffs.

"You got what you wanted, did you not?" Janus asks bitterly. "Yes. I have hanahaki disease. I don't know how long I have left, but I-" He sags, pressing his full weight against the couch as he coughs, blood splattering his lips as flower petals push their reluctant way down his chin.

Red and purple flower petals.

Roman exchanges a shocked look with Virgil, comprehension slowly dawning like a sunrise.

"Janus," Roman says softly, like he's entreating a fragile wild dove. Janus looks up, eyes blown wide in panic and shame. "You don't understand."

"Understand what?" Janus asks, shaking his head as he wipes blood off his mouth with the back of one glove. A purple flower petal clings to the fabric and he looks at it in disgust, ripping it off and letting it flutter to the floor with its fellows. "There's nothing to understand."

"It doesn't- it's not unrequited," Roman says, stammering over his words. Janus looks at him with the eyes of a drowning man.

"What he means to say," Virgil speaks up, his voice rough, "is that, uh-"

"We love you," Roman says.

"So much," Virgil adds. "If you- if you'll have us, that is." He shuffles nervously in place. 

Janus pitches forward in a dead faint.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we finally arrive at the end!

_Firefly, could you shine your light_   
_Now I know your ways_   
_'Cause they're just like mine_

Janus swims to the surface of consciousness, fighting a shroud of blackness, to discover that he's nestled in Roman's arms. And he _likes_ that, he likes that a lot, but he's also far too aware of his heartbeat, pounding in his ears, and the warmth emanating from Roman's broad chest. He smells like allspice and nature, like a breath of clean air whistling through a forest, and Janus finds his bloodstained gloves coming up, knitting into the fabric of Roman's shirt. _Just this moment,_ he prays, because he can't have heard them right before he- he fainted, they couldn't-

"Janus?" Virgil asks quietly. Somewhere, he hears a door close and dimly realizes Logan must have given them privacy. "Are you all right?" Red suffuses his cheek and he nods, his throat dry. Now is the time they condemn him for fainting like a pathetic fool, now is the time they clarify they didn't mean they _loved_ him, they could _never_ -

"Janus, we love you," Roman says firmly, interrupting the spiral of blackened negativity Janus has slowly sucked himself into. He adjusts his grip, letting Janus lean back against the couch, so he can peer into Janus's mismatched eyes. This close, Janus can see flecks of red swirling in the warm chestnut brown of his eyes. "Do- do you understand?"

"You can't," Janus says bleakly. He feels frozen as Virgil sits on his other side, hoodie open and wrapped a little around his back, sharing his warmth.

"Why not?" Virgil asks. Janus slumps, staring down at the blood stains on his gloves.

"Because," he says, his voice cracking. "I'm _me_. I'm- I know you're all trying to include me and accept me and everything, but I- I'm still selfish, I'm still the liar, the villain, the bad guy, I-"

"Whoa," Roman interrupts. "Who's the one who's been teaching us that it's okay to be a little selfish?"

"That's different," Janus objects. Virgil shakes his head.

"No, it's not," Virgil says. "And yeah, you're the one who helps Thomas lie. So- so what? He needs that sometimes. And you've been working with everyone else, too, dude, you- you _aren't_ the villain or the bad guy any more than I am-" He trails off, the tips of his ears going pink.

"You deserve better," Janus says. His throat itches and he coughs, blood and flower petals bubbling to the surface. He winces, spitting out a handful of bedraggled petals into his hand, slicked with blood.

"We _have_ better," Roman points out. "We have _you_. We love _you_ , Janus. All of you. Scales and all."

"I love your sense of humor," Virgil continues, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Janus's back. "I love the way you laugh, how you delight in it. It sounds so freeing."

"I love your intelligence," Roman says. "It was- quite invigorating in the courtroom, to watch you perform as a lawyer."

"But you-" Janus protests. Roman winces.

"I know," he says. "But I think- I think you and I both know what I _wanted_ to say." Janus subsides, nodding weakly.

"I was wrong," Virgil speaks up abruptly. Janus swivels to face him, his heart thudding so loudly, he's afraid the others will be able to hear it soon. "How I treated you. I was wrong. I didn't hate you. I've never hated you. I was- I was scared that the others would find out where I came from, that _Thomas_ would find out- and I took it out on you, and it wasn't fair, and I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," Janus says through numb lips. His lungs _hurt_.

"Please, Janus," Roman says, taking one of his hands in his, heedless of the bloodstains. "Believe us."

"I-" Janus pauses, his eyes rapidly skittering between the two of them. "I love you," he whispers. "Oh god, I love both of you, and I'm _terrified_."

"That makes two of us," Virgil tells him.

"Three," Roman corrects. "But I don't care about being terrified, as long as I'm with both of you."

Janus opens his mouth to answer when another cough bends him over double, eyes watering and gorge rising. It _hurts_ , oh god it hurts, and he realizes he's screaming through his coughing, the sound ringing in his ears as Roman and Virgil lunge toward him, both of them holding him upright as he coughs and coughs and _coughs_ -

And two intertwined, perfectly formed flowers, one red and one purple, spill into his lap, thorn-infused roots and all. He stares in disgusted awe, before he sits bolt upright, the realization hitting him like a ball of lightning.

His lungs were clear.

He raises wonder-filled eyes to Roman and Virgil, both of whom look terribly pale.

"I can breathe," he whispers. "There's- its gone." He gestures helplessly at the blood-soaked flowers in his lap. A moment later, all the breath leaves his newly emptied lungs as Roman and Virgil crush him between them, babbling sweet nothings into his ear and patting him all over, as if to reassure themselves that he's all right.

"You're all right," Virgil says breathlessly, a moment later. Dazed, Janus nods. "May-" Virgil swallows, his tongue wetting his bottom lip. "May I kiss you?"

"Yes," Janus breathes, afraid to say it too loud, as if it will break the spell he's found himself under. Virgil cradles his face between his hands and bestows the sweetest, shakiest kiss Janus has ever experienced on his lips. When Virgil's done, Roman moves closer.

"Is it all right if I kiss you, too?" Roman asks, his own voice soft and gentle, and Janus nods. Roman gently pulls him toward him, hand cradling the back of his skull, as he kisses him, slowly and sweetly and thoroughly, completely heedless of the blood still staining Janus's mouth. He pulls away slowly and Janus stares dreamily into his eyes, feeling like he's floating and hoping it never, ever goes away.

"I heard screaming," Logan says from the stairs. Janus squeaks, his face flooding with embarrassed color. "Is everything all right?"

"More than all right," Janus says, his voice still a little shaky. Roman and Virgil place their arms around his shoulders, anchoring him in place. "Everything is _perfect_."


End file.
